Saint
by KitsuShel
Summary: "I couldn't take my eyes off of her, or the way her fingers stroked her Fender strings, coaxing melodies from it. It was almost as if it was an intimate moment, shared between lovers."     Rated M for things of the citrus variety.


**AN: **This was the second drabble that I written for TwiFicPic (dot) com's Banner/Drabble Challenge. (The first was My Worst Fear)

This time, the theme was **Rock On**! The original banner that I used can be found here: http : / / bit . ly / jgEWRS (delete the extra spaces) The artist who made the awesome banner was Annamorphos!

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><p>Title<em>: [S]aint<em>

Penname_: KitsuShel_

Based on Banner Entry #_: 26_

Word Count_:_ _985_

Pairing/Rating: _Bella & Edward/M for sexual situations and language_

_~O.o.O~  
><em>

_What__'__s __my __name__, __what__'__s __my __name__?_

_Hold __the __S __because __I __am __an __AINT_

~O.o.O~

She was beautiful. No, seriously. My heart stopped the moment I laid eyes on her, leaning against an amp on the stage of this little club called _Midnight__Sun_. Her tight jeans rode low on her hips, black ink peeking out from underneath. She had on a tight tank top, which exposed her colorfully sleeved arms.

I watched her for almost two hours. Now, it wasn't as creepy as it sounds. She was the lead guitarist for the band that was playing there. I couldn't take my eyes off of her, or the way her fingers stroked her Fender strings, coaxing melodies from it. It was almost as if it was an intimate moment, shared between lovers.

A little while later, she was at the bar, ordering a drink. I sidled alongside her, glancing down and meeting her smoky brown eyes briefly. I nervously pushed my black-rimmed glasses up my nose as she threw back a shot before tipping back her bottle of beer. I swore she was about to say something to me when an asshole touched her shoulder. I was disappointed and tempted to clock the fucker in his head with the cast attached to my left arm.

"Hey, baby," the guy slurred. "Can I buy you a drink?"

"No, thanks," she replied politely, the sultry sound of her voice going straight to my cock.

"Aww, don't be like that, sweetcheeks," the guy muttered before grabbing her arm.

I moved closer, ready to knock the guy out, but she flashed me a warning with her eyes so I stepped back.

"Listen, buddy, I've had a long night, and I want to relax with my boyfriend," she growled at the dude, motioning towards me—literally fucking growled. It was the sexiest thing I'd ever heard.

"Your boyfriend?" the guy asked in disbelief, looking from her artwork to my black slacks and dress shirt. "Poindexter here don't seem like your type, little mama."

My eyes widened, and the urge to fuck his face up became unbearable.

"Well, I've already got an F and a C and a K, so the only thing that's missing is a bitch like you," she replied in a sickly sweet voice before stomping down on the guy's foot with her heeled boot.

As the guy howled in pain, she grabbed my good arm and pulled me towards the side of the club, then up a narrow set of stairs. The private room we entered was black and red, dimly lit with plush couches and a few tables. She shoved me down onto a couch and straddled my legs, running her nose alongside my jaw. I could feel my cock hardening as she pressed herself down against my hips.

She laughed throatily and whispered in my ear, "Feels like someone's excited, GQ."

Unable to hold myself back any longer, I wound my hands into her hair and kissed her roughly. Her tongue immediately sought its way into my mouth, and I shivered at the feel of the steel ball running through her tongue. After a few minutes of making out, she slid her way down my body until she was kneeling on the floor. Her nimble fingers popped open the button of my pants and slowly slid down the zipper. I lifted my hips off of the couch as she pulled them and my boxers down my legs.

She looked at my cock, which was standing at attention for her. She reached out and stroked it firmly before running her tongue up its length.

"Fuuuuuck," I groaned, the feel of her taking me into her mouth almost doing me in.

She sucked my length deep into her throat, running her tongue ring down the underside of my shaft. The feeling was fucking phenomenal. I wanted to fuck her face, feel the tip of my cock hit the back of her throat.

I wound my hands into her hair as she sped up her movements, and I felt a tightening in my belly.

"Shit, shit, shit," I muttered, feeling my orgasm fast-approaching. "Fuck, that's it, baby. So good, so good."

My forehead was damp with perspiration, and I took a more active role in guiding her head up and down my shaft. Her response was only to relax her throat and give over control. My hips jerked one last time as I spurted down her throat. The feeling of her throat constricting as she swallowed my seed was out of this world.

I let go of her head and slowly flexed my cramped fingers, laying my head back against the couch. I sighed and peeked open one eye as I felt her rise to her feet.

"Thank you," I whispered. "That was amazing. Can I return the favor?"

She straddled my legs again, leaning down to kiss me sweetly. "Maybe later, we've got another set to do in a few minutes. I just wanted to reward you for wanting to come to my aid earlier but knowing when to back off. Most guys wouldn't."

She smirked and stood, running her hands through her hair to combat the tangles I'd made.

"In fact, our drummer is out of commission after breaking his hand when he punched some douche who was getting too handsy."

I flexed the fingers of my left hand and sighed. "He had it coming, Bella," I said, remembering the guy who'd grabbed her ass one night last month.

"I know he did, E. I just wish you hadn't hurt yourself defending my honor," she laughed lightly, walking to the door.

She blew me a kiss and disappeared from the room. I looked down at my limp dick, still hanging out of my pants and sighed contentedly. She was perfect, and she was mine. I even had a broken hand to prove it.

~O.o.O~

**AN**: Song used: _[S]aint_ by Marilyn Manson


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